


Kiss It Better

by sebastianstanstongue



Category: Captain America (Movies) RPF
Genre: Biting, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Yuleporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:58:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2843804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebastianstanstongue/pseuds/sebastianstanstongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bar fight shenanigans lead to other shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss It Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alliterate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliterate/gifts).



> Merry Yuleporn!

They stumble into Sebastian's apartment, breathless and laughing. Anthony makes it only a few steps into the hallway before he doubles over, hands on knees. Sebastian leans with his back braced against the door, giggling helplessly.  
  
It takes a full minute before Anthony can find words again. He staggers forward and back, then finally straightens up. “Thanks for having my back, dog.”  
  
“Yeah, well thank you for starting shit with assholes and getting us kicked out of my favorite bar,” Sebastian counters. “For the record, I was just gonna let that guy clock you, until he said you were a...”  
  
“No. Nope. No way,” Anthony shakes his head and holds up a finger in warning. “Do not think that just because your face intercepted a punch meant for me you magically get to say it.”  
  
“Talentless hack.” Sebastian pulls a wry face and rocks himself upright. “I was going to say 'talentless hack', jackass. I'm not stupid.” He brushes past Anthony, deliberately bumping shoulders with him on his way into the living room. “Besides, I'm pretty sure that punch was meant for me.”  
  
He flops onto the couch, long legs stretched straight out, and rubs his jaw where not ten minutes before it had connected with a guido's knuckles.  
  
“Mmm hmm,” comes the dubious reply. Sebastian's not a liar, but Anthony can never resist giving this white boy shit.  He wanders into the kitchen and comes back bearing a bowl full of ice – far more than is necessary for Operation Reduce Swelling.    
  
“Thanks, man.” Sebastian grabs a piece and runs it over his cheek and lip.  
  
“Here, let me see.” Anthony brushes his hand away and leans in, scrutinizing the area as if he were a qualified medical professional. That swelling over the cheek bone is definitely going to get worse before it gets better, and that lower lip is busted open, but at least the bleeding's stopped.  
  
Anthony carefully picks away some of the dried blood that's caked into the whiskers on Sebastian's chin. But this is just a diversion. His true and far more nefarious aim becomes apparent when, with his other hand, he slyly dips into the bowl of ice, then promptly drops a handful down the front of Sebastian's shirt.  
  
“Son of a bitch!” Sebastian yelps, trying to shake the ice out of his shirt and grab at Anthony at the same time. But Anthony's too fast and slips easily through his fingers, making a run for the bedroom.  
  
Sebastian bounds, or rather hobbles, after him, ready to retaliate.  He stops when Anthony's face turns unexpectedly serious.  
“Man, what the hell happened to your leg?”  
  
Sebastian shrugs. “I don't know. I guess I banged it on the park bench trying to jump it when we cut through Stuyvesant.”  
  
“I'd like to bang you on the park bench.” How could he resist a perfect setup like that? He couldn't, that's how. “Is it bad?”  
  
“I don't know,” Sebastian grimaces. “It hurts, though.”  
  
“Well, let's see it.”  
  
Sebastian leans down and tries to pull his pant leg up, but the skinniness of his skinny jeans prevents it from rising even half-way up his calf.  
  
“Can't” he says simply, straightening up again.  
  
“Take them damn pants off, Einstein.”  
  
Sebastian smiles, undoes the fly and pushes them off his hips, exposing the thin blue fabric of cotton boxers. He sits on the edge of the bed and wriggles out of the tight jeans.  
  
Anthony kneels in front of him and cups his calf in one hand, raises the leg up to better assesses the damage.  
  
“There's a dent,” he says. Perfect deadpan.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“In your shin,” he says.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“There's a motherfucking dent in your shin,” he says.  
  
“I said I know, Dr. Do Nothing. Geez, I can see it for myself, okay?”  
  
“Don't get mad at me.” The innocent is a role Anthony was born to play. “It's not my fault your slow, clumsy ass tried to parkour over a metal park bench with all the grace of a drunken donkey.”  
  
“It was wet. I slipped.” Sebastian tries to kick his leg out of Anthony's grasp, but he doesn't let go. He just kneels there with a wicked little grin on his face. The corners of Sebastian's mouth slowly twist up to mirror the expression.  
  
“Wanna kiss it and make it better?” he challenges.  
  
Anthony says nothing, just leans over and plants a gentle kiss slightly north of the raw divot. His gaze is locked onto Sebastian's eyes, unwavering. Sebastian falls back onto the bed, laughing. In a moment, Anthony's on top of him, stifling that laughter with a kiss.  
  
Sebastian holds his breath, and when he finally exhales Anthony catches the nutty scent of hops.  He dips his tongue between Sebastian's lips for a taste. Sebastian's hips rise and he deepens the kiss, before Anthony bites the swollen lip, getting a muffled, “Mmmf!” in response.  
  
Sebastian tries to push him away. Anthony grabs his wrists and pins them over his head, meeting no resistance. He continues to bite and nip his way down Sebastian’s chin, his throat, the soft place where neck meets collar bone. All the while, Sebastian's hips roll and thrust as if they have a mind of their own and there's only one thing on it – finding the friction he needs for sweet release. But Anthony stays maddeningly just out of reach.  
  
“Come on, man. Quit teasing.”  
  
Anthony pretends to think about this request for all of two seconds. “Nah, you know I like to make you work for it.”  
  
He slips his leg between Sebastian's thighs, allowing Sebastian to thrust against him. The soft fabric of the boxers now reinforced with the rougher fabric of Anthony's jeans provides more friction, but still not enough. The more Sebastian bucks and grunts, the more Anthony laughs, “Come on, work for it!”  
  
Eye's closed, breathing sharp and ragged, Sebastian's lost in the quest for release. Anthony finally takes pity and reaches down with one hand, providing a steady pull and rub through the boxers, until Sebastian's thrusts lose all rhythm and he comes with a guttural moan in Anthony's ear.  
  
They lie still for a few moments, Sebastian seemingly oblivious to the sticky mess in his boxers.  
  
Anthony rolls off of him and props himself up on one elbow, watching as Sebastian's breathing slows to normal.  
  
“How's the leg now?” he says, giving Sebastian's shoulder a nudge.  
  
“The leg?” Sebastian peers up at him from under heavy-lidded eyes, his voice thick with the torpor of the recently sated.  
  
“Yeah, you know, that hunk of meat and bone attached to your hip. Still hurt?”  
  
“Nothing hurts.” Sebastian flashes him a lopsided grin and closes his eyes again.  
  
Anthony settles back down and grazes his thumb lightly over Sebastian's swollen lower lip. “Then I guess my work here is done.”  
  
END


End file.
